


Generic fantasy story, but not really

by Cream_Of_Yeet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Corruption, Elven, F/M, Fantasy, LGBT, M/M, Parental Death, Sorcerer, Swordsman, Violence, age gap, airyll is my son, corruption in the empire, implied transgender character, mention of past death, more tags tba, vague descriptions of gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 03:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cream_Of_Yeet/pseuds/Cream_Of_Yeet
Summary: Four years ago, on the same night, both the Emperor and Empress passed away from sickness. Poisoning, is what the Royal advisor stated it was. Done by the prince, in a desperate attempt to get the throne to himself. He was thrown in the dungeon, and the Royal Advisor soon took the throne. Enraged, chaos broke out across the nation, but soon enough, desperate bribes and cheap excuses from the government managed to silence them.Flash forward four years.Airyll Evonalé is an orphan. Ever since his mother's untimely death two years ago, he has lived a somewhat bland life with his twin and godmother, carrying on his late mothers work as a sorceress so he can finally get into the school of his dreams. However, when a stranger, an attractive swordsman named Norrin, makes his way into town, everything changes. The two hate each other, but when Airyll finds out his deadbeat father works in the capital, he follows him, to Norrin's dismay. His twin sister tags a long, of course, and his godmother, who just wants to make sure the twins don't die. But, not long into their journey, they stumble upon some information that changes everything, and they have to drop their previous motives to work together as a team.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The summary sucks, but I suck at this stuff. Hopefully you'll like my story, please tell me what you think of it in the comments! It's the first actual story I've ever written, so it might be bad.

When the guards came to get Escort Prince Lyndor to the dungeon, he was in the palace courtyard leaning against the trunk of a large weeping willow, trying to read a new book he had received from his mother not too long ago, before she got sick alongside his father. It was strange, really. Perhaps even suspicious. His beloved parents, leaders of the country, perfectly healthy, had fallen gravely ill overnight about two days ago. He had been at their bedside nearly every other hour, making them tea and such. As he read, calmly, underneath the shade of the century old willow tree, everything seemed just fine. There was a gentle breeze, which subtly shook the shady branches of the tree he loved so dearly. Everything important in his life and before had happened underneath that tree.  
His father proposed to his mother.  
Embarrassingly, he was conceived underneath that tree.  
His mother told him he would be a brother.  
With a look of sadness, he was told that wasn't happening anymore, which he only now understood.  
His father gave him the key to the country.  
He received the news of his parents falling ill.  
And then the palace guards burst in, walking briskly over to the prince. He recognized them as the ones who normally tended to him and his family's safety.  
It all happened so fast, how they pushed aside the branches of his dear weeping willow tree to get to him, the roughness when the guard grabbed him, and yanked his arms back, the tight, scratchy material of the rope tied around his wrists, his own strong, confused protests as they grabbed him, pushing him out of the courtyard and into the palace, seemingly refusing to do anything gently. They restrained him as he tried to kick his way out of their grip, but they just tightened their hold on him as they dragged him somewhere.  
“Where are you taking me!?” Lyndor asked, no trace of panic clear in his voice. More anger, than anything. He was given no response, and when they opened the trap door in the east wing of the palace, and started down the hard stone stairs, his eyes widened.  
“You can't do this!” Prince Lyndor protested, struggling with all his strength -which was rather strong, as he had served in the war- against the strong grip of the guards who carried him to towards his cell. His shouts and protests were the only sound in the space as they threw him in, and he hissed sharply as he hit the hard floor of the dungeon with a thud. The painfully sharp sound of rusty metal on metal echoed throughout the dungeon as the door swung shut, and immediately after, Prince Lyndor found himself in complete silence yet again. It would be useless to shout any more, he had been down there many a time, as the Heir to the throne, he had no doubt been down in the dungeon before, and the brick walls were incredibly thick, no matter how loud you were, nobody could hear you scream. It was perfect for torture. As time went on, the eerie silence got louder, and louder; more prominent. The sound of heels clicking against the floor was a relief, and once the person walked into view of where Lyndor could see who it was, he nearly let out a sigh of relief. It was Verna, the Royal Advisor, who would surely let him out.  
“Verna!” He exclaimed, gripping the bars of the cell tightly, “Verna you have to let me out, there must have been some sort of misunderstanding, I don't belong in here!” He tried to explain to the Royal Advisor, who slowly walked up to the cell. Seemingly out of comfort, she reached through, cupping the Prince’s face in her hand, face displaying a concerned expression that almost seemed fake.  
“Oh, dear, this certainly is a.. situation..” Verma mumbled.  
“Please! I don't belong in here. Now that mother and father have fallen I'll, there's no one to run the country.” Lyndor all but whispered. This didn't make sense. Why would he be brought down here? He had done nothing wrong, nothing at all.  
A few seconds passed, before a slender finger traced the prince’s jawline. “Oh, but you do~.” The woman purred, “people who poison their mommy and daddy to get the throne to themselves... deserve to be executed~.” A deep, sinister laugh sounded from the woman, a smirk making its way into her perfectly made-up face as she gazed at him, a spark of evil in her eyes.  
Lyndor’s stomach dropped, eyes widening. “I- I did no such thing, I don't know what you're talking about!” he shook his head nearly a dozen times, tears welling up in his eyes and blurring his vision. The Royal Advisor laughed again.  
“I don't believe that's what I saw~ now, don't cry, darling.. consider yourself lucky. I'm choosing to keep you down here instead of, I don't know, simply.. executing you.” She said to her, voice rich with amusement. She.. was enjoying this? Lyndor narrowed his eyes, before realizing. His eyes widened again, tearing up, tears rolling down his cheeks to hit the ground, and a whimper escaped his lips as he slid to the ground, in complete shock. How was this happening? His own Advisor poisoned his parents, the emperor and empress, and threw him in the dungeon, taking the throne for herself.  
“Now..” Verna purred, “now, as for who will rule while you're gone? I hope you won't mind if I, perhaps, run the kingdom, while you rot down here.” she stated rhetorically, before walking away, the sound of her heels clicking against the ground fading away until the only sound occupying the echoey dungeon was Lyndor’s own soft sobs.  
And run the Kingdom Verna did. The Royal Advisor became Royalty, taking the throne. The story she had announced to the citizens was that, sadly, the Emporer and Empress had passed away due to poisoning, which was done every other hour on the hour, and the perpetrator of the heinous, treasonous crime was none other than the Heir himself. The people of Ethait were grieving over the loss of their leaders, too naive to realize there was something just short of suspicious going on within castle walls. However, a select few did. And, hell broke loose. Wealthier protesters went on strike, and the poorer protested. If the prince was this corrupt, surely the rest of the Empire was as well. But, with unsatisfactory assurances that there was nothing going on, the government was able to silence them, though it wasn't only the capital city of Aclos that found themselves suspicious. And it was four, long years before trouble rose up again. And god, was it dramatic.


	2. I

Five years later  
I

 

 

The town was buzzing with people. Men, women, and children alike were gathered together for the town festival, the largest event in town, one that the people of Erostey looked forward to year round. Booths with handmade goods such as jewelry and various baked goods lined the streets, waiting to be bought by eager townspeople with money to spend, and various events and performances were arranged in the plaza.   
But instead of being outside, enjoying the festival for his third year in a row, Airyll Evonalé was sitting inside his godmother’s cottage, -the basement, where he had all of his herbs, oils, and magical ingredients for sorcery, something he had picked up from his late mother, that although it had started out as more of a hobby for him, he had quickly become extremely serious about it.  
The seventeen year old was brainstorming ideas for spells, potions he could make, -like he had been doing for hours already- as he had applied to St Chauvet’s School for the Magically Gifted, and in order to actually get into the extremely prestigious -not to mention harsh- school, he would have to pass an exam to prove he has what it takes.  
The school was highly respected, and anyone who graduates from the school becomes successful in one way or another. The education is legendary, so they don't just accept anyone and everyone who applies. Even if you were top of your class, you still might not get in, but Airyll was more than determined to be one of the lucky ones.   
One small problem, however, was that Airyll was of Elven ethnicity, something that, although was mainly only noticeable because of his ears, -which were pointed at the cuff- had made life slightly harder. And not to mention, St Chauvet’s was known to reject Elven applicants. The boy’s own mother had even been rejected, not even having been allowed to do the exam. But, due to some small miracle, -and some favors called in by one of his teachers- Airyll had been allowed to do the exam in exactly one week time, much to his amazement.  
“..and if I dillute Hemlock, and add it to the mixture of rose wig and ginger root, the poison should-” Airyll mumbled to himself, a habit he still hadn't dropped nearly two years after his mother’s untimely death.  
Before, she had been by his side nearly all the time, and Airyll would say his ideas out loud as to get her feedback, as she was, or had been, an extremely experienced witch.   
Usually completely focused on his work, Airyll tended to lose track of time, resulting in him spending unhealthy amounts of time in the basement. He didn't try to, he tried to take breaks every hour or so, but he just got so caught up in either alchemy or sorcery that he never managed to. His sister would bring him meals if he didn't come up to eat something, but it was still concerning nonetheless.   
The soft thud of his sister stepping down the stairs was what snapped the male out of it, blinking a few times before lifting his head up to look towards the staircase where the sound came from.   
Then a short mop of red hair poked through the door frame, and skipped over to him, attached to the spunky girl he called his twin. Valarie, although looking extremely similar to her twin, some might even say identical, was quite the opposite personality-wise. While he was studious and calm, she was rather eccentric, and always moving. He had passed his boy-crazy phase months ago, while she was always boy-crazy, it wasn't even a phase for her at this point.   
“Listen here, Airy,” Valarie started to say, pointing her index finger at him, using her normal nickname for him, and Airyll groaned, immediately knowing he would have to be forced to do something. As a twin, it was extremely easy to read her voice, face, know what she wanted or what she felt, and right now, based on her smug tone of voice, it didn't seem pleasant. Anything she wanted her twin to do usually wasn't a good thing, but he hoped this time was an exception.   
“Yes, Val?” The boy sighed with a slight annoyance, allowing her to continue speaking. And almost instantly, words were flowing out of her mouth, the smug tone still present in her voice.   
“You know how there's the festival this week?”  
The question caused a look of confusing to spread across Airyll’s face, as he had forgotten all about the festival after being caught up in his work practicing for the exam, and Valarie gave her brother a look as if he was an idiot.   
“The one I've only been talking about for, I don't know, weeks up to now?” -- passive aggressively.   
Airyll blinked slowly, still having no idea what his twin was talking about. Figuring he must not have been listening to her when she talked about the festival, he told her, and her mouth dropped in offense, before she walked over to him, footsteps heavy, and grabbed his wrist, her grip tight as she pulled him up from his seat at his desk.   
“Wha-ah!” Airyll yelped, and nearly tripped, dropping his quill as his sister dragged him out the door and up the stairs to the main floor eagerly.   
“Valarie!” The redhead whined.   
“Let me study, Valarie! The exam is in a week!” He protested, trying to pull against his sister’s steel strong grip so he could get back to his desk to work more. A heavy sigh could be heard from the girl, before a stern “no.” How did Airyll allow his sister to boss him around so often?  
When they got up the stairs, and into the Foyer, where Eneá, their godmother, the woman they basically considered a second mother, sat on a piece of furniture, an indifferent look on her face as she sharpened her dagger.  
If Airyll was being honest, Eneá scared him sometimes. Well, maybe more than sometimes. There was just something about her personality, as well as her backstory that just made him uneasy; she had worked up in the capital as a high rank soldier for ten years, and was extremely respected by not only the government, but almost all of Erostey as well. She also had experience training children and young adults to be future soldiers, and often used those techniques on him and his sister, which, admittedly, did keep them in line, but it was annoying and tiring, and it sucked in general.   
“Eneá, I'm dragging Airyll out to the festival, bye-!” Valarie called, grabbIng her satchel of money, and their guardian just gave them a wave, not even looking up from her task to see them off. It wasn't that she didn't care about them, -despite what the twins thought sometimes- she could never forgive herself if something happened to them, actually; she just didn't care what they did, like, ever. They could get away with nearly everything.   
“Don't get murdered,” Eneá muttered, and Valarie waved, dragging Airyll out the door of the cottage and towards the plaza, Airyll walking clumsily behind her, nearly tripping with every step forward.   
“Val, slow down!” Airyll whined, trying not to fall as his sister practically ran around. The boy didn't even try to act interested as he was forced to follow his sister around to booths she wanted to get stuff from, occasionally looking at stuff he himself was interested in buying, such as various herbs and items used commonly in potion making. It was hard to enjoy himself, however, as he was too busy thinking about how he needed to study for the exams for St Chauvet’s.  
If Airyll messed up, even once, he wouldn't even be considered to be accepted. And the fact that he was Elven made it so that if he didn't do absolutely perfectly, he wouldn't get in. The spot would be given to one of the non-Elven applicants instead, and the rejection wouldn't result in anything good for him. His self confidence tended to waver, although it was often on the lower side, and the rejection would cause it to plummet immensely. But when he was stressed, he didn't do well under pressure. I suppose that was the reason Val had dragged him out to the festival.   
It wasn't doing him any good to just stay cooped up inside stressing. She felt he needed to relax.   
Airyll was too caught up in thinking about what he could use in potions, or spells he could cast to impress the dean of the school during the exam, to notice his sister calling his name, but he eventually noticed her when she used her full strength to elbow him in the ribs, knocking the air out of him.   
“Airyll! Are you deaf?” Valarie glared at him, frustration clear in her tone of voice. Her cheeks were puffed out, something she did subconsciously when she was angry. Airyll sighed, looking at her while he rubbed the spot where she elbowed him. He would definitely have a bruise there later, although it was difficult not to get them, as he bruised easily, and his sister wasn't the most gentle, plus the fact that he was clumsy, and tended to bump into things, or drop things.   
“What do you want?” The male whined, eyebrows slightly furrowed. What did he even do wrong?   
His sister gestured to the item he was holding, a small jar of Ylvaesque Spores which was about 120 Reits. Looking down at the item again, Airyll let out a small “oh,” before he felt his cheeks heat up.   
Flustered, he quickly grabbed his money, sorting through the coins in a slight panic to find the right amount to pay for the item. Upon finding the correct amount, he immediately handed it to the owner of the booth, who had a puzzled look on her face, and walked away briskly, placing the small jar in a pocket on his robe.  
His sister followed him, rolling her eyes. Her brother was an idiot sometimes. Not even that, though. He was extremely smart, he just tended to space out when he was deep in thought, that's all. ...not to mention he had no common sense whatsoever sometimes.  
While walking, Airyll accidentally bumped into someone, apologizing immediately. Said person must not have been from Erostey, because he didn't recognize them. It was a man, taller than him, with a less than pleased look on his face.   
“Watch it, Elf.” The man muttered, pushing past Airyll in a rather rude fashion. Airyll sighed, embarrassed. This was just one example of how elves, even half elves like himself, were treated by certain people, and it was a prejudice Airyll never understood. People of Elven ethnicity were often treated as lesser than other human-like species, and humans themselves. Things were getting better now, sure, but there were still people that acted as though elves were worth less than them. Val didn't have to deal with it as much, as the women had it better than the men. Female elves were, admittedly often better looking than human women, and although it helped with the physical violence, they were more likely to be sexually harassed.   
Airyll felt a hand on his shoulder.  
“Just ignore him, Airy, alright? His opinion is just dumb.” His sister told him, and when he looked up at her she gave him a reassuring smile, then with a wink, Valarie grabbed his wrist again, pulling him over to a booth with various books. The male twin gave a small squeak, nearly tripping again as he allowed himself to be pulled along by his sister. When the got to the booth, Val gestured to the books.   
“You're never upset when you're looking at books!” She grinned, and Airyll sighed, smiling softly at his sister. She truly knew him like the back of her hand, didn't she? Airyll could tell she really tried to make him happy sometimes.  
Of course, it was to be expected, them being twins and all.   
He really did enjoy reading, and visiting bookstores was his favorite thing to do when traveling. Although his sister and godmother found reading boring, he found it not only educational but entertaining on many levels. He looked through the books, which were random varieties of fiction, recipe books, spell books, and such.   
Picking up a spell book, Airyll opened it, reading through quickly.   
It seemed interesting enough, thus he decided to buy it. Looking through the others, he found two more he liked, and, taking out his money, he paid for the books. Not having anywhere to put them, he held them against his chest as his sister dragged him off somewhere again. This time, instead of pulling him off to a booth for seemingly the hundredth time, she pulled him off to an area in the plaza where there was a small crowd of people, most he recognized as being from Erostey, cheering for something the twins weren't able to see. Walking up to a small gap in the wall of people, Valarie dragged her brother behind her as she pushed through the crowd to get to the front so they could see what everyone was so enthusiastic about.   
As Valarie pushed through, Airyll would give quick apologies to everyone his sister bumped into, hushedly telling her to slow down. As they got towards the front, the two watched as two men fought each other with swords.   
One of them a rather handsome brunette, with chin length hair and the most striking eyes that reminded him of a soldier’s, and the other an intimidating man, also brunette, tall, that Airyll recognized as the town’s strongest soldier, that he knew of.   
The sound of metal striking metal rang continuously through the air, like a broken record as the two blocked each other's strikes over and over.   
What came as a surprise to Airyll was that the larger man was the one who seemed to be struggling, and the other hadn't even seemed to have broken a sweat yet. If anything, he seemed bored, like he wasn't fighting with everything he had.   
Upon closer inspection, the stranger was fighting with a one handed blade, one arm grasping the hilt of the sword while the other hung at his side, fist clenched but relaxed.  
Swinging his blade, he almost seemed to be doing it blindly, unenthusiastically, but if you looked closely, his skill, technique was amazing, and appeared incredibly well thought out, as if he had beaten this opponent before and knew just what to do. Another observation Airyll was able to make was that the stranger had a small stature, making it appear as if he had some sort of disadvantage, but if anything he seemed to have the upper hand.   
The other wasn't doing so well, but he had a look of determination on his face similar to one of a sibling who won't allow their sibling to take something that's rightfully theirs, and Airyll would know, as that same look has been painted across his face many a times.   
The cheers from the crowd were notable, as there were people cheering for both sides of the fight instead of the usual one. Airyll felt a tap on his shoulder, and looked over his shoulder to see who it was. Valarie. A sneaky girl, that one was, but instead of just sneaking off like usual, she told her twin she had grown bored of this, not wanting him to freak out when the fight was over and he couldn't find her. Which.. he tended to do. Airyll gave a quick nod, acknowledging her, before continuing to observe the sword fight.  
People from Erostey tended to be very supportive of people if they were from Erostey, so it slightly surprised him that there were people cheering for the boy he hadn't seen before.   
The fight was heating up now, the soldier looked just about ready to give up, but he remained persistent. The whole thing was amazing to watch. He backed the other towards the fountain, swords still swinging actively. Airyll watched attentively, astonished. When the back of the stranger’s knees touched the wall of the fountain, his eyes visibly widened, caught off guard like a doe in headlights, and he must have let his guard down just enough, because the soldier soon easily knocked the sword from his hand, as if he had been able to do it the entire time, just waiting for the right moment.   
But within a millisecond, a smirk played across the stranger’s face, almost as if he planned this, let his guard down on purpose. Airyll gasped lightly, like a child in awe as the boy quickly twisted his body to the side to grab the hilt of the sword, and with a sleek, smooth movement, stepped up onto the ledge of the fountain and swung his blade upwards, and the next thing everyone knew the sound of metal clanging against the brick ground rang throughout the air, settling the match.

The stranger had won. 

Stepping down from the ledge, the stranger sheathed his sword in its scabbard, swinging it over his shoulder as he collected the money he had won from the fight. He looked extremely indifferent, like he could care less about his win, stuck up, Airyll thought.   
Airyll watched as a couple whom Airyll recognized as Mr and Mrs Octobria immediately approached the longer haired boy. They were a sweet couple, who Airyll and Valarie had met on numerous occasions, and they ran a quaint materials shop on the corner of Main Street where Airyll had gotten materials from on multiple occasions. They were around Eneá’s age, maybe a bit older. They embraced the stranger, who tried to squirm away, and on closer look, was very similar to them, and the soldier, in appearance. They all had similar looking chestnut hair, piercing green eyes, and pale complexion.   
Now that he thought about it, the soldier was an Octobria. Dean Octobria, to be exact.   
Airyll didn't even realize the crowd around the fight had dissipated until he looked to the side, seeing he was standing mostly alone, staring oddly at the group of brunettes.   
It was when the stranger raised an eyebrow towards Airyll, that he blushed, ears flushing red as he quickly ran away in the opposite direction to avoid any further embarrassment than what he had already brought upon himself.   
Airyll ran until he found his sister, but god, did he hate running. Never having been the athletic type, Airyll found it a waste of energy, and didn't usually run unless he had to. Now wasn't necessarily one of those situations, but he wanted to save himself from more embarrassment. What he had already done to his first impression was irreversible, but it was worth a shot. Besides, when he found Valarie, they could just go back to Eneá’s house and Airyll could study for the exams some more, simple as that. Seeing the familiar mop of red hair next to a booth for accessories, Airyll tapped on his twin’s shoulder.   
“Hm?” Valarie turned around to see Airyll, “oh. It's just you. What do you want, Airyll?” Valarie sighed, and Airyll rolled his eyes.   
“Can we go?” The male twin asked, getting yet another sigh out his sister. She shook her head, and uttered a small ‘no,’ which Airyll should have expected, to be honest. She thrived in environments like this. Giving up, he walked away from her with a sigh, and made his way back to Eneá's house, still holding his new books to his chest.   
*^*^*^*  
For dinner that night, Eneá actually cooked something. This was completely out of the ordinary as the woman usually either had the twins cook for themselves -which was often a mistake when Airyll tried to make anything, as he couldn't cook for his life- or bought something from the local tavern for them all to eat. Her actually making something, however, was almost always reserved for special occasions.. which, they really didn't have a lot of. Airyll knew something was up when he was walking up the stairs, which creaked with every step, and smelled something. No, it wasn't the chemical scent still stuck in his nose from potion making, but something food-like. The male had to stop and do a double take when he got up the stairs and into the kitchen, and saw his godmother uncharacteristically busy cooking. Hell, he nearly asked if she was feeling alright, but that would without a doubt get him slapped. Their guardian wasn't afraid to discipline them, wanting them to turn out well mannered. It worked on Airyll, however, Valarie was a basket case, never having been one for etiquette nor manners in general.  
“Eneá, you don't normally cook,” observed Airyll, “is it some sort of special occasion?” He asked, flinching slightly when the woman turned towards him, setting the egg in her hand down on the counter in a smooth yet quick motion. She was in front of the window, and the sun was positioned at such an angle where the light shone through behind her almost angelically, seemingly brightening her blonde hair and emphasizing the contrast between the light color of her hair and the tanned color of her skin.   
“What do you think, Airyll?” Eneá deadpanned, “do I normally cook?” She responded, tilting her head slightly to the left, letting the sunlight shine past her now. Airyll squinted, the glare of his glasses only making the brightness of the sun worse.  
“No.” Airyll mumbled quietly, taking a step back and lowering his head slightly.  
The floorboards creaked sadly, in need of refinishing in certain spots where it greyed, finish having come off after how many years the house has been lived in, and the ceiling dripped when it rained. It was comical, really, nobody knew where it was leaking, nor could they find it, but it certainly was and all they could do about it was catch the water with pots and pans. Some of the wallpaper was peeling in certain spots along the halls, and in Eneá's room there was entire section of wall with various stab marks in it, differing variously in size and distance from when she needed to take out frustration, which, scared Airyll slightly. A lot.  
The basement like a cave, in the way that it was dank, and dark; it smelled musty, and there weren't any windows, so if you were down there, you had to light a lantern to be able to see anything more than ten inches in front of you. And it was accurate, Airyll had measured it long ago.   
“So..?” Eneá tapped her fingers on the counter, waiting for her godson to come to a conclusion. A second later, Airyll sighed heavily.   
“I guess that means it's a special occasion?” He looked at Eneá, scrunching up his face slightly in question. The woman in front of him just gazed at him for a second more before narrowing her eyes, turning back to the dish she was preparing in front of her, which smelled rich, like fresh bread, cherry amaretto and rosemary. Eneá nodded, humming once, before sighing.   
“Yep. An old friend is coming over in an hour or so.” She mentioned, before resuming cooking. Airyll started out towards the kitchen door, but a firm hand grabbing the back of his collar made him choke momentarily, preventing him from leaving the room. Without looking up, Eneá spoke.   
“listen here, our guest is an extremely important man, alright? I expect you and your sister to be on your best behavior. Got it?” She was calm, slightly intimidating, but not scary. Unusual. This person must mean a lot to her. Airyll opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted immediately.   
“got it?” Eneá repeated, and Airyll nodded a dozen times before wriggling out of her grasp, sprinting out of the room quickly. God, she scared him sometimes. But, then again; he was as easily frightened as a naive four year old girl.   
Airyll ran to his room, where he stayed quietly until the last possible minute, hoping his godmother wouldn't make him come out to meet whoever it was that was supposed to be coming over. His room was quite bland, the only furniture things that were necessary for him and books littering every surface from corner to corner. He often tried to avoid things like this, being terrible at first impressions and just talking to people in general. But his plan was foiled when he heard the shrill call of Eneá yelling for him. The guest must be there.  
“Airyll if you don't get down here right now I swear!” She yelled, and Airyll   
jumped, flinching at the volume of her voice. It was loud, even from the opposite side of the house. The male groaned, slowly swinging his legs over the side of his bed and hopping down. The floor creaked loudly with every step as he walked across his room, opening the door, which also creaked, and stepped out of the safe confinement of his bedroom, into the dark hallway. He walked at a normal-ish pace down the hall and to the dining room. Once he stepped through the door, seeing who the guest was, his eyes widened, and he just stood there like a deer in headlights.  
“About time.” Eneá commented, crossing her arms. Embarrassed, Airyll looked down at the floor as he walked over to take a seat at the table next to his sister. He looked up at their guest again. He recognized the brunette hair, and the striking green eyes from the boy earlier, the swordsman he had never met before. The man had a slightly judgmental look on his face as he looked Airyll up and down once, and Airyll felt his face heat up.   
Eneá cleared her throat once, before gesturing to the young man. “Twins, this is Norrin Octobria. He's a swordsman.”


End file.
